A need/hate relationship

Now that I am a day away from 14 weeks into this pregnancy, I'm officially into the second trimester, and that just seems crazy. I see it as a huge accomplishment. When I was six weeks, I thought this day would never come. I mean it seems that it has really flown by in some ways, yet it has felt like it's moving in slow-motion in other ways. As amazing and exciting as the first trimester has been, the lovely side-effects of having something (or somethings in my case) take over your body can sometimes put a damper on that excitement. Don't get me wrong. Everyday when I look in the mirror and see my belly grow before my eyes, my heart does jump with excitement at what miracles have come about. But, leave it to morning sickness to change those thoughts in an instant. The relationship that I speak of in the title, is that of mine with food.

Food used to be fun. Something to create with, to indulge in, to socialize around. And now, and for the past three months, I have found myself eating out of pure desperation, and not enjoying hardly a second of it. I do have cravings here and there-lemon slush, watermelon, sushi, without raw seafood of course (gross anyway)- but sometimes I feel like I will never be the same. I turn my head at every food commercial or blog post (sorry everyone, I do love your recipes and can't wait to try them, just not right now), and cook as little as possible. Thinking of meals to make is so difficult, and it's hard to believe I used to love cooking dinner. I eat out for lunch way more often than I should, just to add variety and give myself a break from thinking of something to eat for once during the day. It's quite ironic that during this stage, I have to eat more than I ever have in my life, yet, it's when food seems least appealing. From the second I wake up (usually around 6:30) to the second I go to bed (usually around 9:30) food is my constant companion, just to keep the nausea at bay (I'm eating pretzels as I write). I carry bag of it wherever I go, and keep a kids table full of it next to the couch. And I recently found out what happens it I rebel and eat less than I should, and in a violent way at that. Anyone ever had this happen after a horrible puking episode? I honestly thought my eyes were going to pop out when it happened. I'll try my hardest not to let that happen again.
Anyway, not to bore or complain, I just wanted to say how grateful I am to have made it this far, and to be onto the next phase of this incredible thing called pregnancy, without the pure hatred of food, hopefully coming soon. I know many others that have endured far worse, and I give my giant stamp and admiration to them. Still, as depressing as months of couch potatoing, and eating through the gagging can be, thinking about the end result of my darling babies in my arms in merely months, always brings the greatest joy into my heart. Everyday is a day I thought would never be here. I still feel like it's a dream most of the time. And the Zofran my lovely doctor has prescribed doesn't hurt either.

I'll try to write something more uplifting with a less creepy picture soon, but I had to vent this and move on. Hopefully we'll do something eventful for Memorial Day, besides try to clean all the messes I've been making. Then I'll have that to write about. Sorry you have to look at this in the meantime.